


What the Scissors Saw (or Snip Snap)

by Delphinapterus



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, POV Inanimate Object
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-29 08:45:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/317950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delphinapterus/pseuds/Delphinapterus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The scissors are silver and smudged slightly with the fingerprints of their owners.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What the Scissors Saw (or Snip Snap)

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this came from my lovely beta Shay and without her this would never have been written.

The scissors are silver and smudged slightly with the fingerprints of their owners. They have been in the box for a long time, hidden away in the dark, next to a heavy silver ring and a bloody leather bracelet they can remember Dean wearing. The box opens and they see Sam looking in. Is it their turn? Sam picks them up in his warm hands. It makes them feel tiny and delicate.

They are no longer sharp as they once were when Sam found them languishing, shiny and alone, in a junk store. They can remember Sam’s excited voice as he shows them to Dean. Dean had rough hands and laughed at them but he tucked them into his pocket to make Sammy happy.

The first time they cut hair it was Sam’s hair; his soft fine hair. Dean did it. The scissors felt Dean lacked a special touch with them. Dean handled them as if he was attempting to cut through rope. The scissors felt misused. They were sharp and bright. They could go through Sam’s lovely hair effortlessly if only Dean would let them. Sam cried the first time Dean cut his hair. The scissors cried too. They loved Sam they would never have hurt him.

Later Dean stopped using them and Sam took them. The scissors were happy when that happened. They allowed Sam to use them; they trimmed his hair, gently, not pulling at it.

The scissors are in Sam’s large steady hand tonight and he raises them to his hair. The hair is matted with something sticky that tastes metallic and sweet. Perhaps the mess has something to do with the dry, crunch, bitter leaves they cut up earlier for Sam?

The mess is on the scissors now. They begin to feel duller almost unable to cut through Sam’s matted hair.

Sam says, "Dean," softly almost like a prayer.

The scissors rally. They will not fail Sam not after all they’ve been through.

It’s so hard to keep going but for Sam they will. The hair falls quickly now even as their blades grow blunt. The hair covers the chalk lines on the floor as the scissors keep cutting through Sam’s hair. The scissors are cutting their swan song.


End file.
